


Pocket Dial

by nachochang



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nachochang/pseuds/nachochang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Burt have a series of phone conversations that result in Blaine going to NYC for Christmas. Post-Ep for 4x10,  Glee, Actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocket Dial

A/N: Thanks to [anxioussquirrel](http://anxioussquirrel.livejournal.com/) for the quick beta, [judearaya](http://judearaya.livejournal.com/) for the extra cheerleading and [wowbright](http://wowbright.livejournal.com/) for the kind words. You are amazing women and I love love love you!

Read on [Tumblr!](http://nachochang.tumblr.com/post/38016339719/ficlet-pocket-dial)

________________________________________________

The first time Burt Hummel calls after October 4th, Blaine is almost certain it is a pocket dial.

When he tremulously holds the phone to his ear after answering the call, all he hears in return is silence.

“Um, Mr. Hummel?”

Still silence. And maybe just the hint of breathing, but Blaine can’t be sure. It’s not polite to listen to someone breathe.

And oh, that only brings so many unwanted thoughts of falling asleep on Kurt’s chest with his soft breath in his ear –

No. Focus.

He clears his throat, and tries again. “Mr. Hummel?”

Another second or two of silence and then a low soft sigh. “I’m not sure what to say here, Blaine.”

He swallows, the tears already pooling in his eyes. “I know, sir. I’m so sorry. So, so-“

“You don’t have to tell me that, Blaine. I know.”

“Then, why-“

“I need you to know that you screwed up. You screwed up, kid-“

“I know, oh god, please, I know-“

“Calm down, and let me finish. Look, you screwed up, but you know what? You’re human. And Kurt knows that.”

“But he hasn’t forgiven me, or even heard all the details-“

“But he will. He told me you guys have talked a few times. That true?”

Blaine suspects that Burt already knows the answer to this question. But it’s still nice to be asked, because he likes to answer the easy questions. “Yes, sir. We talked after the musical, and on Thanksgiving, and he told me we need to have a heart to heart.”

“Boy do you ever,” Burt replies, and Blaine can hear a bit of laughter in his voice. “Look, I have a favor to ask you, but first I need to tell you something, and I don’t want it to be over the phone. Can you make it to the tire shop in an hour?”

Blaine nods emphatically before he remembers that Burt can’t see him. “Oh, yes, of course, sir. Anything.”

And then Burt does laugh, and if it wasn’t such an infectious sound, Blaine would feel like it was punching him in the gut. “You’re never gonna call me Burt, are you?”

~

The second time Burt calls after October 4th, Blaine is certain it’s a pocket dial. There’s nothing but pocket static, and a slow scrape-scrape noise, and even though he says Burt’s name over and over, even going so far as shouting “Burt” almost at the top of his lungs while he’s pulling into the McKinley parking lot, there is no response.

When he disconnects, he considers texting Burt that he pocket dialed him, but he figures it might be a better use of his time to let it go, and really process what he had just been told the previous night.

Burt has prostate cancer. He could die.

Sure it is unlikely, But it’s still a possibility, and oh god, when Kurt finds out –

Blaine takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have to tell Kurt, it’s Burt who has to do all the unloading. And is he ever glad he isn’t going to have to deliver that news.

But he does need to support Kurt whenever he finds out. He knows that Kurt would still want warm milk, or that perfect mix of snark and softness via text or phone, or maybe Kurt would even let him skype call again so he could see-

Oh yeah.

That thought makes him smile wider than a puppy in the snow. Because the other part of Burt’s news ensures that he will be seeing Kurt much sooner than he thought before.

“I want to give Kurt a little Christmas cheer. It’s not always a happy holiday for him, but I know that the only thing that could possibly fit in that apartment that he doesn’t already have is shaped exactly like you.”

Blaine had blushed and agreed to go before he could convince himself otherwise. He wasn’t ready to process yet what it meant that Burt Hummel was onboard with Blaine coming to New York for Christmas. That he was even suggesting it made his heart do strange lambadas, but now it is like – like this is his blessing.

And his eyes do that wet thing again, because he is absolutely not going to let any kind of negative thinking about Burt’s condition in until there is no other option. Blaine can do supportive. With anyone really, but especially Kurt. And Burt.

If he had a father like Burt Hummel, he would certainly want as many supportive watchful eyes on him as possible right?

So that’s what he would do.

Right.

Yes.

~

The third time Burt calls Blaine after October 4th, Blaine’s teeth are chattering. He has been sitting outside Bryant Park for about thirty-five minutes, giving up on the New York Public Library and sidelining all the touristy attractions in lieu of psyching up his feet and heart to make this plan work.

It’s just ice skating. It’s not like he wrapped you in a bow and locked you in a room together.

On second thought, it’s a good thing you didn’t wear that bowtie afterall...

He slides his phone out of his pocket and glances around before answering. “Hello?”

“He’s, uh, on his way. . .Nighthawk.”

Blaine laughs for a second, unsure that any nickname would have actually stuck with Burt, and replies, “It’s Nightbird.”

“Whatever. You’re on, kid.”

“I’m on it,” he says, loving the little co-op they had setup. He takes a breath to say goodbye when Burt coughs and clears his throat.

“Oh, and Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“I told him. He knows now.”

“Oh,” Blaine feels the world falling in on him for a moment and realizes he is leaning too far back on the bench and its less than stellar frame is giving, and he is certainly falling prey to gravity. He pulls himself up and crosses his arms.

“Make sure you remember what I told you.” Burt says softly.

He gulps, and nods again before hanging up the phone and stuffing it in his pocket. He adjusts his scarf, and smooths his hair with his gloves before standing, hoisting the skates over his shoulder and whistling “White Christmas”.

You’ve got to keep the people you love close to you.

~  
The frozen way that Kurt is staring at him is a carbon copy of a picture he has seen a million times in his mind. He can’t pretend that his mind isn’t constantly wallpapered with Kurt in all sorts of poseable positions, complete with accompanying facial expressions.

But this kind of frozen - the kind that communicated 97% actual surprise and 3% fear - hasn’t been seen since before October 4th. And Blaine is more than grateful for its return.

He was smooth and confident on his skates, and his delivery of the line he’d practiced in the mirror thirteen times was certainly above stellar. All had gone according to plan.

So when Kurt still says nothing, Blaine begins to babble. He talks about Burt and cancer and how he’ll keep his eye on him (really, Blaine?) When he resorts to asking Kurt if he really is happy to see him, he fears Burt is capable of a bad idea, and Kurt’s not ready to spend another Christmas with him afterall.

But when Kurt pulls him into his arms for a hug after Blaine assures him he would always be there for him no matter what, Blaine knows that something has gone through. That there will be more mending as time went on. Day after day, more and more of Kurt Hummel will return to him, and even if that required less and less of the magnanimous Burt Hummel (what is wrong with you, Blaine?), it is still a miracle.

Two hours later, Blaine pulls his phone out of his back pocket to call Burt and tell him that they are on their way home, and confirm they are still on for the Celtics game after Christmas dinner when he sees a missed text.

**12:03 am**  
 **From: Burt Hummel**

_How’s it going out there?_

He dials quickly, hoping Burt isn’t asleep. Kurt is already nodding off in the cab.

He answers on the third ring. “That good, huh?”

Blaine smiles. “It was a great idea, Burt. Thank you,”

“Hey, no problem son. Best plan born from a pocket dial I ever had.”

Blaine’s eyes widen. “What?”

He hears that infectious laughter again. “Nothing. I’ll see you guys when you get home, ok?”

His heart is pounding. “Yeah, ok.”

“Oh, and Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling me Burt.”

He laughs and sticks his phone back in his pocket. Looking over at Kurt sleeping peacefully in the seat next to him, his hair mussed a little by the window, and his mouth quivering just so, Blaine feels more at home than he had in months.

It’s official.

Best. Christmas. Ever.


End file.
